


Friday

by Intoxicarcerate



Category: Breakfast Club (1985)
Genre: First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-18
Updated: 2009-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-04 13:40:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Intoxicarcerate/pseuds/Intoxicarcerate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something was distinctly wrong when Brian saw Andy outside the gym after Physics Club on Friday evening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [llassah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/llassah/gifts).



After the detention, Brian Johnson felt reborn, and he wasn't sure whether this was a good thing or not. His parent's comments about how he'd let them down by getting a detention in the first place, and his worries about failing Shop were sliding away like honey – but Brian _missed_ them. He'd known them only hours, but he missed everything about them. John's surly impertinence and his dark glare. Allison's kohl-lined eyes and mysterious statements; the way she'd stolen his wallet and scared him shitless. Claire's sweet smile when she'd said it was okay for a guy to be a virgin. And Andy's easy, bubbling laugh, his warm charisma which Brian had been part of for just a little while. He missed them all like the white-cold ache in his shoulder when his bag was too full of books and he carried it too long.

He'd been in moderate agony when, on Monday morning, it had been almost exactly as Claire had predicted. A secretive smile and a 'hey' from each of them, but they didn't automatically glue back together as he'd hoped, they hadn't all sat together at lunch knowing as one that everyone else in the room was a mundane idiot. At least Andy hadn't made fun of him behind his back as Claire had said – Brian had pretended to leave after greeting Andy and then peered through the lockers to watch Andy to the door. He'd shrugged and glared off the raised eyebrows from his jock friends in a 'fuck you' sort of way, and Brian had grinned all the way home.

*

Something was distinctly wrong when Brian saw Andy outside the gym after Physics Club on Friday evening. The older boy was pale, visibly shivering, and there were circles under his eyes so dark it almost looked as if they'd both been blacked. He leaned against the wall, gaze on the ground as Brian approached, arms around himself and fists clenched in handfuls of his blue sweatshirt.

Unnerved, Brian wondered what to say. He was usually articulate, but the sight of someone he respected and admired so in such a weakened state turned his brain upside down. Andy always seemed so strong and resilient – but not today. It was strange, like seeing a lion without his mane.

Brian's quiet footfalls obviously hadn't been as quiet as he'd thought, because as he opened his mouth to voice his concern, Andy looked up and caught his eye. He tried to smile, but it was forced and lopsided and looked out of place. Brian felt a surge of sympathy, strengthened when Andy attempted to greet him but could only cough mournfully from deep in his chest. He looked a wreck, and Brian's heart went out to him.

"Andy, are you okay?"

_Ask a stupid question._ Brian cursed himself. Of course he knew the answer and the answer was a resounding _no_, but he also knew Andy a little – well, he hoped – and that Andy wouldn't let a tiny thing like a nasty dose of the flu stop him doing what he had to do to meet his father's expectations.

"I'll be fine," Andy croaked, and his teeth were chattering as he spoke – Brian could see he was forcing it back, trying to stop them. "I just need.."

But what Andy thought he needed, Brian never found out because the older boy doubled over in a coughing fit. His hand flew to his mouth, his head falling forward, and Brian winced at the painful, hollow sound. When Andy had finished coughing, his eyes red-rimmed and watering, Brian said,

"You're sick, Andy."

As he'd expected, Andy shook his head and tried to straighten up, which only made him shiver even harder. A thin, shining sheen of sweat had broken out on his forehead.

"No, I'm not. Having a bad day, is all."

"Shut up," said Brian, not unkindly, and smiled warmly at his friend. "You look terrible."

"Thanks." The smile was genuine this time, if weak. Andy hugged himself tighter, biting down on his lower lip to quell the chattering of his teeth and failing spectacularly. "Okay, so maybe I am." He rolled his eyes. "But that doesn't mean I can get out of this wrestling meet."

Brian thought that any person who had looked at Andy in this state and deemed him fit to attend a wrestling meet should be declared clinically insane; either that, or blind. Or they were intolerably cruel and should be forced to participate in unfavourable situations when they were sick. He stepped closer, placing a comforting hand on Andy's trembling arm.

"You," Brian said in a tone of voice he hardly ever heard from himself, because he hardly ever had to use it, "Are going home and going to bed."

"I can't," Andy moaned quietly, raising his head from where he'd been staring at his sneakers and looking at Brian with almost pitiful eyes, sending a jolt into Brian's heart. "I can't let everyone down. My coach – "

"Your coach will understand." Brian interrupted, "And so will everybody else. You know how terrible you look? Anyone with a brain would glance at you and send you straight to bed."

Another weak chuckle, which Brian took as Andy admitting defeat, and the older boy transferred his weight from the wall to his feet shakily. His hand moved to Brian's shoulder, holding on to him gently for support, and Brian realised that Andy's condition must be worse than he'd thought if he was this weak. He stopped.

"Andy, did you eat lunch?"

"Hah," said Andy half-bitterly and half-laughing for Brian's benefit, "Yeah. Then I lost it all over the bathroom. Didn't want to chance eating anything else."

That explained that, then.

"Are your parents home?" Brian asked carefully, and Andy shook his head.

"Away for the weekend." he explained.

"Then how would they know you skipped the wrestling meet?"

"Oh, my father would find out. He would. He always does." Andy shut his eyes, looking sickened, and Brian decided not to ask any more questions.

"I'm taking you home." he said firmly. "Keys?" It was rather presumptuous of him to think that Andy would even let him do that, let alone drive his Bronco, Brian reflected, and wished he could take those words back. That was until Andy handed over his car keys, looking gratefully at him, and mouthed 'thanks'. He led the way slowly to the car and all but collapsed into the passenger's seat, and Brian leaned across to wind down the window just in case. He could guess how Andy felt about his Bronco and was sure he wouldn't want the inside of it covered in vomit, even his own.

"Okay?" Brian ventured as Andy leaned back in the seat, his eyes closed, his cheeks ashen. A slight nod was the only response, and it was probably the best he was going to get at this point, so he started the car and pulled away. Brian knew the way to Andy's house, having been there several times, and was glad he didn't have to poke the older boy for directions. Andy appeared to doze off as they drove, although he did keep leaning forward to gulp in fresh air from the open window, and when they arrived he stumbled out of the car as fast as possible, looking at it through glazed eyes as if it were an instrument of torture.

Brian used the keys to open the front door, waited for Andy to come in and watched him lean once again against the wall in the hallway.

"Hey," he said softly, touching Andy where his neck joined his shoulder. The smooth skin there was burning hot, and Brian felt a sharp jolt of concern. "Hey, Andy. Go upstairs and get into bed."

Andy nodded, his forehead creased in pain and still coated in fever-sweat. His bright blue eyes held an almost frightened look, and he seemed younger suddenly – as if their positions were reversed and he was the Junior, while Brian was Varsity.

"Don't leave.." Andy whispered sadly, and Brian couldn't help but wind his arms around his neck warmly. In other circumstances, he would have been petrified that such a gesture would be too familiar or strange and he would ruin everything, but right now Andy needed comfort and Brian knew it and was willing to give it in spades.

"I'm not going to leave." he said next to Andy's ear. "I'm going to stay here, get you meds and make sure you're okay. Now, go and get into bed." He poked Andy gently in the shoulder, eliciting a tiny noise which sounded a bit like, "Okay."

Brian watched Andy go shakily up the stairs, still feeling the intense heat from his body as if Andy had just been running or working out. If Andy hadn't been so sick, Brian might have allowed himself to enjoy that hug and the heat.

As it was, he followed a few minutes later with aspirin and cocoa. Andy was standing in the middle of his room half-undressed, looking unsure about what he was doing there.

"I thought I told you to get into bed," Brian said, sounding like his mother.

Andy didn't say anything. He just stepped close and kissed Brian gently on the lips.

*

It turned out that Andy's fever had been over 100, and when he'd found that out with the thermometer after fifteen minutes of feverishly (literally) kissing Andy's burning lips and cheeks, Brian was scared – for Andy's health. Later, when the meds had brought it down and Andy was dozing in bed, he was scared more than for the fact that he might have been hallucinating that Brian was actually Allison or something. His fears were unfounded. When Andy woke up a few hours later, insisting he felt pretty much entirely better, they kissed until three in the morning. Kissed, and talked about wrestling and video games and Burger King and pressure from their parents. While Brian had thought of Andy as a polar opposite of himself, Andy had known they weren't so very different. It made Brian feel less alone, as clichéd as that sounded.

He spent the rest of the weekend veering between a deliriously happy daze, remembering the warm, melty feeling between his legs and the smooth caramel of Andy's skin in weak light – and sheer panic about himself, his beliefs and the rest of his life. Would it happen again? He and Andy wouldn't be walking down the corridors hand in hand, but it hurts him somewhere dark that he didn't know existed when he thinks about it not happening again.

He wondered about the others. Mostly about Allison. If Andy would tell her, if he'd tell all of them. If they'd know anyway.

Monday morning, his stomach rolling over, he gets a wink from John and a grinning twist of the mouth that might have been him good-humouredly mouthing the word 'queer'. He doesn't take it personally – he probably is, if Friday was anything to go by. Although maybe it's just Andy. A knowing look from Claire follows, and when he sees Allison by her locker, she leans over and whispers with a barely-suppressed giggle,

"He loves you."

And Brian smiles back at her and tries not to hope too much.

** _end._ **


End file.
